


Predator or Prey

by knghtmar44 (April_H)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: British spelling, Friendship, M/M, Violence, injured Bodie, thrashing through the brush, written for Secret Agent Men 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8200048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/April_H/pseuds/knghtmar44
Summary: What started as a vacation for the boys, turns into a struggle for survival.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks for a fine editing job by Alayne, Dark Cherry, Susan, my husband, Steve and, of course, Bast. They helped me shape this piece into a coherent story.
> 
> Story originally written 2007.

Tuesday – 4 p.m.

If Doyle had the breath to curse, the air would’ve been polluted a mélange of blues. Though, on second thought, cursing would be pointless not to mention dangerous. The act would only use up needed air and energy better spent on recovery, aside from the problem of alerting their pursuers to their location - something he’d worked damn hard to prevent. For the moment it looked like this mob of hyenas hunting them had lost the scent. He took a deep breath and tried to leash his anger. 

_‘What did Fate have against them having a spot of vacation?’_

~~~

Bodie and Doyle knew they needed something to take the edge off their nerves after the last month of near-death encounters. Their last case though, that had been the last straw – something Cowley had evidently realised. They were finishing their reports on the op when he had yelled for their presence in his office. Both men had been surprised then pleased when Cowley told them he had an assignment for them that should only take a couple of hours to complete, then they had two days off contingent on the usual events.

The CI-5 agents arrived in the quaint little village of Kidlington located just Northeast of Oxford a little after breakfast time. They skidded into a parking spot at the Thames Valley Police station in Oxfordshire exactly forty-four minutes later. Their arrival went smoothly thanks to Bodie’s driving - and communal common sense from Joe Public to clear out of the way of the maniac steering the silver Capri down the A road at O dark 30 hours this drizzling Tuesday morning. Plans for food and possible locations for a break were argued about as they walked into the local nick.

The two men flashed their IDs, then applied their personal charm and professionalism to soothing the ruffled feathers of the local constabulary who expected their collar would be spirited away to London. Once it became clear CI-5 only required a little time with the suspect to confirm information, things moved along. The fence they started squeezing became co-operative once he knew he would stay in Oxfordshire for his trial, preferring the lesser charge filed in Kidlington to the trouble he’d face from former compatriots in London. 

~~~

{Flashback from earlier that day}

“Roger, Control. 4.5 out.”

Doyle dropped the mike into its holder with ill-concealed anticipation. Report given, the information that Cowley had sent them to obtain from the grass holed up in this out of the way jail now passed along, Doyle relaxed slightly and smiled. They had the next forty-eight hours off. 

“Done then? What’s Father’s orders?” Bodie came to a stop by the open door of the car and, laying his arm across the roof of the Capri, he leaned into the passenger side of the car. 

“We’re off,” Doyle replied, controlling the smile fighting to escape.

“Yeah? How much off?” Bodie replied suspiciously, knowing from experience his partner’s tendency to tease and the Cow’s tendency to attach conditions to any freedom suddenly granted.

“We don’t have to report in until Thursday at noon.” A smile broke loose from Doyle’s control, lighting his face. “What do you want to do?”

Bodie’s surprise momentarily escaped then faded into a wolfish grin. “Right.” He stood up and gazed toward Oxford Road, the main road running in front of Kidlington’s police station, deep in thought. “If I’m not mistaken,” he looked down to catch Doyle’s eyes, “that cottage I mentioned last time we talked about a bit of fishing is about an hour north of here.” He raised his brow in question, leaving the choice up to Doyle. 

“Yeah, okay.” He gave Bodie a lustful look before adding, “Think the right kind of bait will be available so our limit can be landed?”

Grinning back, Bodie quipped, “I can guarantee it, Sunshine.” He backed away from the door, and started round to the driver’s door of the Capri, sliding in behind the wheel with a laugh. “You ready to quit this place, Ray?”

“Lead on, McDuff.”

The grey Ford rumbled to life, then throwing loose gravel, it peeled out of the parking lot of the local police station, heading north.

“So, what are we going to do about any gear we’ll need? We left everything but essentials in London.” Doyle glanced at his partner, squinting slightly as the breeze from the open window blew hair forward into his eyes. _I’ll have to get a haircut when we return home. Cowley’ll only put up with so much concerning my hair length._

“I think we’ll be able to find everything we need in the nearby village.” 

“Oh yeah?”

Bodie cut a quick look at his partner at the tone of that remark before dragging his eyes back to the road. That rough, sexual growl that Doyle sometimes used acted on him like a stab of electrical circuitry, making all manner of personal bits to sit up, tingling with anticipation. “Ahh, come on, Ray. Not while I’m driving,” Bodie whined half-heartedly.

“What’s the matter, Bodie? Can’t handle it?” drawled Doyle with that same seductive voice deepening with feeling and desire. He loved to drive Bodie crazy like this. He owed him anyway considering the way Bodie had handled him two nights before. 

His partner had been in a wild mood then, teasing with words and touch as he held Doyle down on the bed. Bodie used his greater weight to advantage, crouched over Doyle, his legs holding his partner’s thighs firmly to the mattress, his right hand gripping both of Doyle’s securely over his head while his tongue and his left hand had stroked and teased as much of Doyle as Bodie could reach. It had been glorious.

Doyle grinned lecherously at the memory.

“I can handle you,” Bodie answered, throwing a smirk at his partner, knowing his factual confident reply would rouse the competitive edge in his lover.

“You can handle certain bits of me anytime,” Doyle taunted, letting a bit of his feral side out to play.

“Put it back in its cage, Ray. You can let it out once we get where we’re going,” Bodie stated, nervous. He’d learned by experience the importance of caution when Doyle swung into a mood like this. He couldn’t always calculate what direction his sprite of a partner would carry his teasing.

“Spoilsport.” Doyle smiled, a wicked, wild look hinted in his eyes. “Outdoor sex can be educational.”

“So can jail.” Bodie glanced at his partner for a quick look, then returned his gaze to the road. He smirked, trusting his instincts concerning Ray. He could literally feel the sharp tang of Ray’s mental excitement as it continued to smoulder, practically sparking the cool spring air surrounding them. “Besides, I’d rather my tender bits were in a warm, soft location before they’re bared. Cold tends to discourage certain active exercise.”

Doyle smiled at his partner, pleased his teasing had scored. “So, tell me again about this cottage we’re going to use?” Doyle asked, taking a firm mental handhold on his libido as he glanced out his side window at the rapidly changing scenery. They were definitely in the country, as blurred hedgerows flashed by with an occasional lane opening breaking the monotony. Bits of blue sky clashing with the misty white of fog filled the view through the windscreen, with just a hint of winter’s chill that had been forecast for this area. Add enough water in the air to require an occasional swipe of the wipers and you had a typical English Spring day. Luckily they were planning to spend most of their vacation indoors. 

“It belongs to a buddy of mine from my SAS days. He goes on about the area every time we get together for a pint: the little village nearby, the great fishing he’s enjoyed there, wide open countryside for relaxing walks, and for those not talented in the kitchen, a pub that serves a decent shepherd’s pie.” Bodie flicked the new key hanging from his key ring. “Luckily I caught up with him before we left.”

“Perceptive of you… or did you know something I didn’t?” Ray leaned slightly against the corner of the seat with the door giving a bit of support as he gazed at his partner. _This ought to be good._

Bodie glanced out the corner of his eye, his smirk growing into a knowing grin. “Maybe a little of this, a little of that…” He dodged the quick jab to his shoulder as best he could in the confining car as Ray retaliated to the vague reply. “All right, there’s no need for violence, my son. I may have heard a bit as Betty arranged our contacts to make an educated guess.” Bodie looked at his partner, noting the signs of fatigue that were visible if you knew what to look for. He presumed similar signs were visible on him as well. It had been a hard couple of weeks. “I just decided to be prepared in case the Cow did let us have a breather, that’s all.”

“And?” Doyle wondered what else could be involved.

Bodie shifted slightly, then sighed. He knew since becoming lovers, it had become difficult to keep secrets, even harmless secrets. “All right, so when the Cow said something about our next assignment, I casually mentioned you were looking a bit wilted round the edges.”

“Me!” Doyle straightened up in his seat and stared at his partner. 

“Well, yeah.” Bodie coughed to hide a laugh. “A little stress isn’t going to show as much on me. After all I **am** tall, dark, and beautiful.” A quick look to see how far he could push things, then he added, “You being older than me doesn’t help, you know.”

“What? I’ll show you old, 3.7,” Doyle retorted, his humour shining through rather than any anger as he settled comfortably back into his seat. “This cottage – it has all the comforts of home, eh?”

“Among others,” Bodie grinned lewdly, grabbing another quick look at his partner, who was sprawled across the passenger seat. 

Doyle didn’t bother hiding his glance, enjoying a slow, heated visual climb up his partner’s physique while working hard to control the smirk that wanted to escape. No need to make it easy for Bodie, after all.

“Then I’d suggest you step on it. Don’t want to waste anymore time drivin’ when there’s other things we could be doin’.” Doyle paused, thinking wait for it… then continued with, “Tall, dark, and immodest is more like it. Wilted indeed. We’ll see how long you last before signs of wilting sets in, Batman.”

“Right.” Bodie gave the accelerator a bit more pressure and the Capri sped up. Memories of past workouts that Ray had inflicted set his libido to a boil. 

Bodie met Doyle’s stare and held it for a long moment before returning his attention to the road. Each man noted the happy smirk gracing the other’s face as thoughts of the next forty-eight hours played through their minds as the Ford sped down Oxford Road heading for the A34. 

End flashback

~~~

Arriving at their destination, Bodie and Doyle found the George and Dragon for a few rounds of beer and a hot meal after settling their gear in their borrowed cottage. Their visit ended with their beer on the floor and the last quarter hour avoiding a group of young men who had taken a violent dislike to them. Who would have guessed this backwater gang would have pulled shiny new high velocity pistols? 

Several shots and a lucky handful of minutes later found the two agents running through the misting afternoon with nine or ten of the locals hot on their trail, no R/Ts at hand and Bodie hurt. Earlier both men were happy for the largely agricultural area, now they were wishing more people were about.

Doyle couldn’t guess why they suddenly turned on the two agents, but thanked Fate they managed to get out of the building without serious injury to themselves or any of the patrons of the bar. He did manage to discourage their immediate pursuit by wounding the first couple of gang members pushing through the outer door after them. Using available cover from the garden and natural wilderness behind the pub, they managed to slip away. Unfortunately, it didn’t dissuade their pursuit entirely.

~~~  
{Flashback from earlier in the day}

The distinct sound of people arguing in the pub’s back garden made the decision about their direction moot. Doyle manoeuvred Bodie to the right, away from the pub, wanting more distance between them and the people yelling behind them. He pressed Bodie for more speed as they abandoned the road, struggling across a slick, muddy ditch that overgrown brush had masked, through dead grass and stiff brush until moments later they were mere shadows under the nearby trees. 

“Careful, mate,” Doyle whispered as he steadied Bodie against his body, using an old oak tree for support himself. He watched through the branches as five men pushed through the gate to stomp onto the road. Three more followed, the last man Doyle recognised as the person who had flared the argument into gun play. 

~~~

Tall and blond, maybe in his early twenties, the leader pushed through the crowd of men to stand arrogantly among his mob. Several of the men were nervous, unsure about continuing their sport.

“What are we goin’ do, Sean?” someone demanded, their voices loud enough that anyone nearby could clearly hear.

“What if the copper shows up?” another voice announced, youthful sounding and thoroughly spooked.

“Oi, if any of them,” a young man looking all of sixteen waved his right hand violently toward the open fields of the farms that fronted the pub on three sides, “call the shots in, we’re in trouble. You remember what the grasshopper threatened last time we caused trouble.”

“Sod Greengrass!” Sean snapped, his contempt of the local law clear. “’Sides, you think these pansies have the sand to say anythin’ after our lesson last time?” A vicious snarl crossed Sean’s face at that comment, his eyes glittering with the potential for violence. Several of the older gang members shared a second’s locked gaze, their own faces holding the matched look of their leader before the confusion of the moment broke through.

“They wounded Erin, Sean!” Fear and fury mixed through the raised voices as several of the men began arguing over each other, making speech nearly impossible to understand.

“I noticed, didn’t I!” Sean roared, silencing most of the conversations. He swept his right hand through his blond hair in aggravation, glaring at anyone who showed signs of opening their mouth.

“A shot clean through Derry’s…” another voice began only to have several other voices interrupting. 

“What about my brother, eh?” A solid looking young man with dark hair and pale skin shoved several of the others hard, making the pack stagger as they shifted away from the angry young man. “He’s hurt bad, shot in the chest like that.” He advanced on Sean and swore, “Son of a bitch that’s my brother…” Fury bristled visibly from every line of his body. “’Thought you said these two’d be easy, Sean,” he sneered. 

“Shut up, Ian. I know what I said,” Sean growled, pushing the angry man away. “You saw ‘em. Arms round each other’s shoulders, smiling and laughing as they came out of McThomas’ Walgreen. Those two fruits should have been short work,” Sean yelled angrily, needing to strike out.

“What’ll we do then, Sean,” one of the others prodded from the safety of the mob.

“Find ‘em!” Ian shouted, hatred’s venom colouring his voice. “Just leave curly top for me. I owe him.”

“Shuddup, Ian!” Sean glared at everyone in his mob, then stepped closer to Ian and poked him hard in the chest with his forefinger. “I’m still leader. We do what I say.” Another hard poke emphasised the point to the fuming young man, and then Sean glanced at the group. “Spread out and search. One of ‘em is hurt. That ought to make findin’ ‘em easy.” 

No one moved for a second, as if frozen in place. 

“Get goin’ all of you!” 

Sean’s harsh bellow sparked rapid movement out of the mob and they peeled off in pairs to start searching the area. Ian stared intently at his leader, a frown pulling his dark brows into an ugly scowl then he let his partner pull him away, leaving Sean standing alone by the pub. 

Doyle watched the men separate, noting details concerning each one including the directions they headed. He glanced once more at Sean, watching him disappear behind the shrubbery surrounding the pub’s back garden, possibly to tend to the two Doyle had wounded in their escape. Checking once more so they wouldn’t cross any of the gang’s path, he led Bodie deeper into the nearby trees, hoping he could manoeuvre them back to the car before too much time had slipped away.

{End flashback}

~~~

Doyle took a cautious look round making sure no one was in sight. He led Bodie out of the trees and into an abandoned field, the waist-high brown grass thick from a summer’s growth with sparse clumps of wild flowers thrusting past the rye grass on spindly stalks. They waded through the sea of brown vegetation, listening to the gentle scraping sounds of the grass as it swayed in the cold afternoon breeze. One last telling look-see covering three hundred sixty degrees – now to see to Bodie…

“Come on, mate. Come over here,” Doyle coaxed, lightly pulling on the coat sleeve to encourage Bodie to follow him down until they knelt on the damp ground. If they were careful, they could stay hidden within the grass long enough for him to examine Bodie. 

“Goddammit,” Bodie snarled under his breath as he settled unsteadily on the cold soil. “I’ve a ‘ell of a headache.” He started to rub his forehead, but quickly dropped his hand. A grimace of pain briefly appeared before a dark scowl smothered any hint of weakness. His hair looked windblown and unruly particularly where a painful looking red furrow ran across his right temple, disappearing into sable strands glistening with more than the persistent light mist. A ragged watery pink line stood out on Bodie’s pale face, running from temple to chin before sluggishly dripping onto his black polo.

“Let me have a look.” Doyle leaned closer, then tightened his hold on his partner’s jaw when Bodie tried to jerk away. “Keep still.” He pulled Bodie’s head toward him and cupped his right hand securely round the pale chin to hold his partner’s head still. Doyle brushed his left thumb gently through the wet mess coating Bodie’s temple while the rest of his fingers threaded through the thick, dark strands of hair just above his right ear.

“You aren’t hurt, are ya, Ray?” Bodie inquired, blinking several times in an attempt to force his eyes to focus on his partner. 

“No, I’m good. Lucky they couldn’t shoot straight.” 

“What’s this then?” Bodie growled with a slight shoulder roll to pinpoint his comment on himself.

“You’re luck lately,” Doyle replied straight away. The bit of humour aside, a smirk tried to sneak out when Bodie grunted in annoyance. Ray knew why a frown darkened Bodie’s features. The expression screamed his annoyance concerning Lady Luck’s blatant displeasure with his partner over the past couple of weeks. Fortunately none of the recent close calls had affected the pair quite so critically.

Bodie instinctively flinched when Doyle’s fingers passed too close to tender flesh, the movement pulling him free of the secure grip. “Shit,” Bodie grumbled as he began to topple over, his balance noticeably impaired by the graze. 

“How bad is it?” Doyle murmured reaching out to snag hold of Bodie, hauling him back upright. 

“Nothin’ ta worry ‘bout, mate,” Bodie insisted, unaware just how many physical signs were obvious to Doyle, stating emphatically his less than fine condition.

“Ya, right.” He held two fingers up, slowly wiggling them in front of Bodie’s face. “So, ‘ow many can ya see?”

Bodie worked to bring his sight into focus – unconsciously squinting his eyes, his features pinched as he struggled to force his body to do what he wanted. “Four dirty fingers.” Bodie looked passed Ray’s hand to his face. “I’d kiss ya, but I’m not sure which one of you to kiss.” A huff of laughter escaped as he added, “Wouldn’t want any nasty rumours starting up, you know. About me kissing strange men.”

Doyle sighed quietly. Typical Bodie humour to try to misdirect Doyle’s worry. His partner obviously had impaired balance, a killer headache, and had just admitted to double vision. Thankfully Bodie hadn’t thrown up on either of them, though that could change. He seemed reasonably positive a solid, ear-ringing concussion accounted for all Bodie’s problems. 

“You’re a mess, mate,” Doyle whispered, his fingers careful as he checked the dazed man’s skull.

“Quit it, Ray,” Bodie insisted. “That ‘urts,” he whined, trying to block Doyle’s hand away with his arm. 

“Damn lucky you ‘ave a ‘ead of stone,” Doyle muttered, ignoring his partner’s complaint as he wiped at the bloody brow with a light touch. Satisfied the graze didn’t seem too serious Ray glanced quickly round, then took a firm grip of black leather. “Come on, we best go,” he urged, his instincts beating a frantic ‘move it’ tone through him.

~~~

Thirty minutes later found the partners edging along a neglected hedgerow until it opened onto an abandoned garden. The watery afternoon raced steadily toward dusk, bringing the promise of more wetness for them to endure. Doyle glanced round, then led them to the left, away from open ground. A broken stone wall sprawled toward what once had been a cottage before fire had consumed it. The only remains left consisted of the skeletal bones of a fireplace, the lone sentinel to shattered dreams.

“Ray, I ‘ave to rest.” Bodie’s voice though quiet in volume screamed loudly with fatigue.

Doyle glanced at his partner, noting his bleached-out complexion and the lines of pain pulling at his eyes and mouth. 

“Right, come on then. This area looks promising.”

Doyle urged Bodie toward the wall; both men crouched low for safety’s sake as they moved across the broken ground. He wrapped his arm round Bodie’s waist when they reached the nearest corner and pulled his mate further into the shadows. Doyle leaned against the wall, using the support of the solid stone corner to ease them both to the ground. He heard a soft sigh of relief escape from his partner as Bodie relaxed against the solid support behind him. Doyle gave a careful tug on the solid body and brought his partner more securely against his side until they both were enveloped by deeper shadows, out of immediate sight. 

Long delicate branches of some unidentified vine spread across the wall near them, draping gracefully over their heads to fall in a heavy, early Spring sprawl of yellow flowers. Hopefully between the thickening fog and their living canopy spreading it’s concealing cover they could grab a small rest. 

Doyle needed to work up a plan to deal with their pursuers.

“What happened, Ray?” 

Doyle turned his head toward Bodie, noting his partner’s gaze still appeared glassy, the signs of concussion clear. He reached his hand toward the larger man, stroking his fingers through the damp, black hair before he ended his caress with a light touch of his fingers down Bodie’s near cheek.

“I’m not sure. Something sure set those lads off though.” A pause, then Doyle added, ”Besides you pissing them round about the beers.”

Bodie glanced away in thought, then shook his head slowly. “I can’t remember.” Concerned, he looked up at his partner. “I don’t remember much past us dragging our stuff into the cottage. Tell me what happened?”

“We settled in…”

“…Including some relaxation upstairs?” 

“No, that was gonna be pudding,” Doyle grinned at the expression of disappointment on his partner’s face. “We were both pretty hungry so after we stopped off at Walgreen’s for a few essentials, we headed to the pub for a meal and a drink. I grabbed a table and you stopped off to pick up our drinks and place our food order.”

A furrow between Bodie’s blue eyes deepened as he fought to match Ray’s words with memories. He gave a slight negative shake of his head as he continued to listen.

“You brought the glasses to the table and we talked until we could get the food.” A slight smile spread across Doyle’s face, lighting his eyes. “The food tasted as good as your friend promised.”

Bodie snorted in annoyance. Obviously the meal was a forgotten memory too.

Doyle controlled the smirk that wanted to sneak out at Bodie’s reactions. Thinking about the conclusion of their run-in with trouble wiped his face clear of emotion.

~~~

{flashback from earlier that day}

Doyle pushed his plate away, causing it to chime in protest as it collided with Bodie’s empty dish near the centre of the table. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head in an indolent, contented sprawl before settling comfortably into his chair. The meal had been excellent, the beer had been better than expected, and the shared company, as usual, started a perfect way to ease into a few days off. Doyle watched Bodie look round the pub, making note of the diners while he completed a visual sweep of the room. Two tables with three supposed locals were absorbed with their mid afternoon repast.

The pretty barmaid had a petite figure and long, blonde hair – just as Doyle had always favoured… at least he had before a certain blue-eyed former merc swept into his heart, becoming the most important person in his life. Thinking about Cowley’s expectations of their pairing brought a gurgle of a laugh bubbling out. He smothered his laugh in his beer at the thought that their boss probably hadn’t expected them to pair up quite this closely.

Doyle looked at his partner over the rim of his glass and met laughing blue eyes. As usual, Bodie swung perfectly in sync – he wouldn’t doubt the man even matched him in thoughts, they were so close. He swallowed the last mouthful of beer and dropped the heavy mug onto the table with an audible clunk of glass meeting hard wood.

They were sitting against the back wall of the pub, a location that both men instinctively sought when in public. The spot gave them a good visual on the room, kept the front entrance within their sight, and insured them an accessible exit to the outside through the hallway running past the phone and toilets to a back door.

“You want another?” a quiet voice murmured near his right ear.

Doyle turned slightly and grinned at his partner. Bodie leaned into him enough that he could stroke the fingers of his left hand up the inside seam of Doyle’s jeans. 

“Naughty,” the curly headed man teased, his voice low and throaty but didn’t move away from the caress. They both knew the tablecloth blocked anyone from observing any preferably private moment that might occur. “And yeah, another would be good. You paying?”

A soft sigh and a flash of a grin answered him as Bodie rose to his feet. “I asked, didn’t I?”

“Just checking, sunshine,” Doyle quipped. “Dinnt want to fall behind ‘cause I missed a turn, do I.”

“Ray, you’re so far behind on the tab, it’ll be years before you catch up.” Bodie smirked at his partner, his pleasure at the jab obvious as he grabbed their glasses.

“That including leap year too?” Doyle’s laughing voice teased as his partner eased round the nearby tables heading for the bar. He watched, grinning, as Bodie paused between the two nearby tables, glanced over his shoulder and made a face at him before continuing on to the bar.

“Two more, darlin’,” Bodie requested. Ray knew the kind of charm Bodie would be flashing at the middle-aged woman working behind the counter. He could see the smile he directed at her before Bodie turned slightly, leaning on his left elbow so he could keep the room in view, not to mention Doyle, who graced him with a happy half smile of affection. 

“Right, duckie. You want anything else to go with that?” The lady behind the bar smiled back, her pleasure at the attention from the handsome, friendly man gracing her establishment obvious. 

“No, the meal was enough. Hit the spot, it did.” 

Doyle watched his partner nod his thanks to the woman, sending her on her way. Doyle had noticed when they came in that the small name tag attached to her apron named her Mary.

Bodie swiftly spun round putting the bar at his back as something loudly crashed nearby. Doyle saw him move slightly to his left in reflex to gain more manoeuvring room. One of the pictures that had covered the entryway wall lay on the floor, broken. Several more were vibrating on their pegs from the violent impact of the door handle against the wall. A noisy group of young men surged into the pub, one of them again pushing the door roughly against the wall with another loud crash that sent two more pictures to the floor, adding to the mess.

“I’ve warned you lot about breakage,” Mary growled angrily as the group pushed toward her. “I don’t want any trouble or it’s the cops you’ll be dealing with.” She set two filled pints near Bodie, who slowly adjusted his stance, keeping the young men in front of him. Mary’s attention settled on the group of young men who began to crowd closer. 

Ray watched the single patron sitting nearby slide money under his plate and leave by the back entrance. He never glanced toward the gang filling the front entryway, nor did he bother to finish off his meal or drink before leaving. Concerned, Doyle looked at the other two people occupying one of the tables near the front door, noting their rising distress though they didn’t try to exit. Apparently, the agents didn’t have all the facts considering this mob and their potential for trouble. Doyle rose slowly to his feet and began to manoeuvre unobserved toward the crowd near the front door.

“Hey, make room, mister -, ” one of boys spat. Small and lean, the teenager had a head full of short dark hair. The boy pushed between his friend and Bodie to lean on the solid wood counter. He hardly looked of legal age though he certainly could stir up trouble. This break amounted to the first holiday they’d managed to squeeze out of Cowley in months – both men were determined that snot nosed kids weren’t going to spoil what time they had to relax.

“Come on, Mary. Give over, we want a beer. We’re dry as a basket,” an annoyed voice sounded from somewhere within the pack of young men.

“Sean, you know ‘alf your gang is underage. I don’t want trouble out of you lot. Sergeant Greengrass’ been through here concerning you.” Mary frowned at the belligerent looks aimed at her, her tone growing aggravated. “I’m not goin’ ta lose me license over you lot. Don’t make me call the law.”

“Oi, ‘ere’s two pints,” the pushy boy next to Bodie stated, grabbing one glass and pushing it down to one of his buddies.

“Excuse me, those are mine,” Bodie softly stated. 

Ray could hear in Bodie’s voice his partner’s resigned acceptance to the fact that trouble approached. He knew the next step would be for Bodie to ease away from any obstacles, his hands hanging easily. The façade that would face this crowd would be the cold, flat persona of the fighter, not the friendly patron of a few moments ago.

“Oi, this bloke wants that back, guys,” the dark headed teenager taunted. They quickly drained the first beer, then pushed the mug back down the bar toward Bodie. The young punk reached for the second glass to do the same, grinning arrogantly to his friend on his left. Ray stopped just the other side of the large wooden support pillar that served as the outside corner of the bar and waited, momentarily hidden from view. He knew Bodie would express his displeasure to the gang now.

“Ow, let go mister,” the teenager cried out, cringing in sudden pain after Bodie grabbed his wrist and squeezed on a pressure point until he snatched his hand away. The gang immediately manhandled the young man until gang members surrounded him, keeping him out of harm’s easy reach.

“Thank you,” Bodie replied, casually grasping the handle on the pint and raising it to his lips for a sip then setting it back on the bar. He projected the dangerous merc personality at the group en mass, experience giving both men a faint hope that things wouldn’t escalate any further.

“Right, I don’t want any trouble,” Mary scowled at all of them, sounding worried. 

The boy grabbed his wrist, holding it protected against his chest. Doyle watched the tough, the teenager’s eyes opening wide in alarm when he really focused on the man he had been harassing. Doyle controlled his disdain, watching the boy’s outward calm melt when he realised the dark potential for violence he had toyed with. Tall and solidly built, the black clothes and expensive black leather jacket Bodie wore emphasised his physical build. Even though he couldn’t see his partner’s features, he knew the expression being projected toward the gang. It would be more intimidating, project more danger than anything these blokes were used to dealing with. Doyle stepped out from behind the wood pillar, drawing several eyes momentarily to himself with his motion. He let some of his anger show, knowing his appearance would be similar to Bodie’s, another dangerous looking bloke, his eyes slit in apparent anger glaring at the gang.

Doyle knew exactly when Bodie became aware of his approach. The agent tensed slight, a flinch across shoulder muscles that no one else would have noticed before they relaxed. They were a true pair – the scent, the aura of each other always served to announce their location no matter the circumstances. Veritable partners…

The young tough watched the tall man drain his drink then slowly place the empty mug back on the bar. As he stretched his arm out, the movement caused his jacket to open momentarily. “Ahh…” he stuttered when he caught the brief view of a leather strap flowing down from the man’s shoulder “Ian,” he squeaked, sounding afraid.

“You lookin’ for trouble, mister?” one of the older boys sneered pushing to the front, feeling brave with so many supporters behind him.

“No, not really. Just wanted me beers. Why, you want to make it into trouble?” Doyle knew Bodie would try to bluff through this as he stared at the brat who had spoken. He sighed silently, wishing half-heartedly that Bodie had thought about how these kids would respond before he’d reacted. Neither of them went looking for a fight, but they rarely backed down from one.

“Why don’t you boys go back and play with your bikes?” Bodie calmly stated, his attitude concerning the gang obvious. Everyone watched him pick up the empty glass and glance at its empty depths, then turn his attention back to the tightly packed gang. “You don’t even have to buy me a replacement beer.” His steel-eyed gaze locked upon the apparent leader of the mob. “Count us even.” 

“Ian,” a shaky voice called amidst the mob of bodies.

“Be quiet, Billy.”

“Ian, he’s wearing a gun,” Billy stage whispered, scared.

“What are you talking about?” Ian demanded. 

Doyle watched one of the young men crowding up on Billy, his features marking him as a relative, presumably an older brother. The angry expression Ian wore made it clear he would bash Billy a good one given the slightest provocation. Sean pushed through to stand at Ian’s shoulder, his back to the teenager while he watched the strangers, waiting impatiently for clarification to his statement.

“Saw the shoulder holster when he moved, Ian,” Billy whined, cringing in anticipation of being hit.

Doyle watched silently as Sean growled a threat at the boy over his shoulder and stepped closer to the front of his pack. He stepped a little further to Bodie’s left when Sean placed his hands on the shoulders of the two young men standing in front of him, easing them apart as he continued to watch the two agents. Sean kept glancing back and forth between the two silent men, who stood patiently waiting for either violence or peace. The glower directed at them showed more of Sean’s uncertain feelings than he probably wanted them to know. Bodie and Doyle threw more aggressive attitude at the gang hoping to rattle them, capping it with two tight-lipped, narrow eyed stares. However the agents had little doubt Sean would take action against them, no matter the confidence they displayed as they fronted up to the gang. He wouldn’t keep the leadership if he didn’t act soon, no matter they weren’t the easy bait and roll targets that consisted the gang’s usual marks. No one moved for an eternity or a second.

A careless moment set things off then all hell broke loose. 

{End flashback}

~~~

“You said the wrong thing and they took offence.”

“Yea, I guessed that much,” Bodie groused roughly. “What I want to know is why are we out here in the damp and cold instead of laying into those guys.” A slight groan escaped him and he brought his hand up to carefully rub against his head.

“Headache?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s one reason we’re not laying into them.” Doyle did a visual sweep of the area round them, knowing they couldn’t stay here much longer without being discovered. He glanced at his mate as he added, “Another is we’re down one gun.”

“One gun… oh,” Bodie sighed, embarrassed.

“Yeah,” Doyle agreed quietly, trying to assure Bodie he didn’t blame him for dropping his gun back at the pub. They were lucky they only lost the gun and not Bodie’s life. “We need to work our way back to the car and the radio. We can obtain local help to handle this and avoid creating a messy scene. You know how the Cow feels about dead locals, even when they deserve it.” A sigh of resignation escaped Doyle. “Cowley’s going to blow over this, mate. And we also need to get you to a doctor.”

“Just need a bit of a rest. No need to worry, Ray.” 

Doyle gave Bodie a brief tolerant look. He could have bet that would be Bodie’s reaction to any mention concerning a doctor’s visit. They were similar in their dislike of hospitals and doctors.

“The way I figure it, we just have to stay clear until after dark – then we head for the car.”

“I don’t know, Ray… I don’t like running away from this.”

“Normally, I’d agree with you.” Doyle took a breath and locked his gaze on his partner. “This time… Bodie, you need a doctor. Not counting that little problem, we’d be taking on nearly a dozen blokes with who knows how many guns with only one gun between us. And considering the way the other locals acted when those toughs showed up, I have my doubts about any help from the citizens round here.” He shrugged, then grinned a wolf’s smile at his mate. “They’re not going to get away.” 

Doyle rose to his feet and turned, prepared to help Bodie if he needed it. “Ready to move?” Doyle asked, feeling antsy and trusting his instincts: time to go.

“Yeah.” Bodie struggled to his feet, his left hand quickly finding the wall to lean against as his balance struggled with the change in position. His headache suddenly flared brightly, then settled to its steady, strong pounding inside his skull. He blinked a couple of times, hoping his vision would clear, then sighed in resignation as two, blurry Ray Doyles leaned close to kiss him gently on the lips. As Ray started to pull away, Bodie made a quick grab for his partner’s face, though definitely not as co-ordinated as usual and confided, “I’d snog you back if I could tell the two of you apart.” He threw a loving smile at his mate, then let his partner guide him out of their hideaway.

“Yeah, we’ll deal with that little problem too as soon as we get back to the car.” Doyle checked round the open yard, glancing down their back trail before he eased Bodie out of cover. “I figure we’re a good kilometre from the pub. Those boys have been more determined than I’d have given them credit.” He glanced at his partner in the waning light, noting Bodie’s paler than normal complexion. “What say we circle back to the pub? If we stay out of sight until dark, we should be able to get to the car and…”

“What’s this _should_ business?” Bodie rumbled, annoyed. “They’re just kids, Ray!”

“Kids with guns. Kids with their blood up after I shot two of ‘em. Remember?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Bodie, if things were normal, yeah, we wouldn’t have any trouble from them. But things aren’t normal. Things are pretty rotten in fact. So, to avoid anymore clashes with the locals, don’t you think it would be better to go round the problem instead of going through it like we usually do?” Besides, Doyle thought to himself, _I don’t want to give my temper a target right now_. Circumstances were bad enough without adding dead bodies to the mix. 

Bodie shrugged half-heartedly and mumbled agreement then stumbled against Doyle as they crossed broken ground towards the lane that eventually led back to the Capri.

“All right, mate?” Doyle asked, concerned. Every time Bodie stumbled or grimaced in pain, Ray’s temper grew hotter - heaven help that crew if they did cross paths with them anytime soon. 

“Bloody marvellous,” Bodie snarked back. 

“Come on, Bodie. Sooner started, sooner we’re back to the cottage and have a lot of our concerns dealt with.”

~~~

Bodie and Doyle had struggled with the climate and terrain for over an hour, doubling back several times to avoid trouble. Thanks in part to the deteriorating weather, they’d managed to avoid the gang who seemed to have split into two hunting parties, though a couple of close calls had nearly led Doyle to let loose his anger and his gun on the persistent pursuers. 

Their latest detour had forced the agents to use an overgrown, grassy lane in their attempt to circle back to the pub. They kept close to cover and searched for an opening in the hedge as they tried to slip ever closer. Unfortunately an unforeseen difficulty clearly interfered with the plan: big, bloody fully-grown, two meter tall, thick hedgerows seemed to line every avenue of the agents’ course. Doyle grew steadily more annoyed as they continued to fight with the brush, comparing their experience now with what he’d read in last Sunday’s editorial. _Why the bloody hell had the preservation groups spread the alarm about the English countryside going the way of the dodo bird? Did these people even go out and investigate before trying to stir up another cause?_ Considering the hedgerows he and Bodie had been fighting through, their case had no substance. 

_This township must be unusually devoted to their historical heritage_. 

Doyle brought his attention firmly back to the present, scolding himself silently for letting his attention wander. Bodie was counting on him after all.

Doyle yanked his arm angrily loose from another branch that had escaped the cultured confines they were shadowing. They should have been able to work their way back to the car by now. “Bloody hell.” Doyle verbalised his annoyance at their surroundings in a muttered growl as he glanced along the prickly side of the bramble they were skirting. He hoped to find an exit from the lane through this God-awful tangled mass of sticks that loomed in pretentious claim of a fence - a slim possibility considering this farmer’s love of hedgerows serving as walls.

“Stay right there,” he murmured to Bodie, waving his pointed forefinger at his partner to enforce that thought as he stepped away from the hedge to scan down the lane for an opening. 

“Well?” Bodie wanted to stop walking, particularly considering the way his head continued to pound away against his temples in time with his every move. He watched his partner take another step back as he stared through the light fog that continued to collect in their confined location. A little more favour from the weather and they should be able to walk past any of the hunters sight unseen. 

“Finally.” Doyle stepped back to Bodie’s side and moved them along with a little more speed. “Looks like a opening up ahead,” Doyle quietly stated, moving his arm back round Bodie’s waist for additional support. “It’s on the right side for us to use too. Here’s hoping we can cross the field and be through the other side before it becomes too dark to see anything.” 

“Right. It’s about time.”

~~~

The agents had taken half a dozen steps into the field when the sudden snap of a broken branch cracked like a gunshot in the quiet. Scanning silently round, Doyle identified the direction when another loud crack, then an annoyed voice announced his target’s location, to the right and behind them in the lane they had just left. The tenuous hold Doyle had managed to maintain on his temper shattered as once again they were threatened with discovery. No more playing in the bushes; the time had come to start evening the odds. 

“Goddammit, Dolan, we’ve been walking long enough. I thought you said you heard them round here somewhere. I’d’ve thought we’d have caught those two by now,” a whining voice stage whispered with a sharp Irish twang from the lane beyond the hedge.

“Shuddup, Clancey,” a deeper, steadier voice harshly snarled, his Liverpool origins still prominent in his speech.

Doyle responded instinctively. His training and need to protect his partner had him moving Bodie back to the hedgerow close to the recently used opening. Doyle slipped silently next to the bramble, listening as he slowly pulled his gun out of its holster in preparation to intercept the approaching party. He noted when Bodie eased to his knees, his unsteady gaze on Doyle as Bodie used the calm moment to gather what energy he could. Ray knew that no matter his condition, Bodie would be there to cover his back. He eased to the inside edge of the hedge’s opening then froze, a silent silhouette of greys and browns as muddy jeans and brown leather merged with the browns and greens of plant life and the afternoon’s thickening fog as his prey noisily approached. 

A vicious gleam shone from his eyes, hinting at the level of anger seeking to escape as protector mentality switched to predator. These men had attacked them without cause. They had fired upon them, causing Doyle to quickly gather Bodie up and flee. Pure luck and the total surprise of the encounter for both parties were the only reasons the CI-5 agents hadn’t been killed during those first few seconds. Adding to Doyle’s deadly fury, the unconscious thought running through the back of his mind - these men had maliciously hurt his partner – his lover. He refused to let that go.

A silent deep breath steadied Doyle as he balanced in preparation to fight on the uneven ground. The growing noises identified two possibly three targets nearly upon them. Ray transferred his gun to his left hand and eased closer to the brambles of the hedgerow, barely noting a thorn slipping past his jacket collar to stab skin. His stillness, the weather, and the dark colours of his clothing concealed his location from his prey until _he_ was ready to strike. Totally unaware, his lips stretched into a dangerous snarl and his eyes narrowed with lethal intent. 

~~~

Doyle watched with a leopard’s patience as three men moved aggressively into view, using the remaining light to calculate his attack for maximum effect. The man slightly in the lead skimmed the hedge’s edge placing him closest to the agents while the other two covered the rest of the narrow lane. The lead man had a Colt .38 clutched tightly in his left hand while the man in the middle had a flick blade. The third target held a solid looking pipe in his right hand. The two closest were Bodie’s build with his general complexion. The guy holding the pipe showed more Irish breeding, his reddish brown hair too long for comfort. He kept flicking his head in an unconscious attempt to keep the unruly stuff out of his eyes.

Doyle tensed as they drew within reach. He could see the gunman hesitate when he became aware of the possible hiding place. The other two slowed as well, but didn’t spread to offer better cover to the leader. _Amateurs_ , Doyle sneered silently as he watched them. When they were within range to handle all three, he leapt out in a tight tuck and roll, coming up on one knee and began to fire. 

The gunman became the first victim taking a bullet dead centre in the chest, his gun dropped limply to the ground unfired while he flopped backward in an ungainly sprawl. While the gunman fell, Doyle had already switched his target to the knifeman, putting first one shot into his knife hand to stop any sudden toss, then one square between his eyes. He had climbed onto his feet by then as the third man rushed him, swinging his metal truncheon. Doyle dodged the opening charge, laid a solid punch into the redhead’s side then followed it with a quick knee into his stomach. 

The redhead sucked in a strained breath and tried to drive Doyle off with a cross slash of the pipe, but the agent defeated the move with a quick step back, and brought his gun up. “Don’t try it,” he growled, his voice hard and steady. Redhead fuelled by anger and little sense swung the pipe overhead, his obvious intent to bash Doyle’s head in. Before he could complete his swing, Doyle dropped him with one quick shot to his chest 

“Stupid git…” His opinion of this man’s intelligence evident in his voice.

He checked on the three men to ensure they wouldn’t offer any further threat, then gathered up the knife, slipping it into his back trousers’ pocket, then scooped up the gun and slid it into his jacket pocket. 

“Ray!” The volume of Bodie’s yell barely made it across the narrow lane, but his worry filled it. 

“Okay, Bodie. Keep your trousers on,” Doyle quickly replied striding rapidly across the lane to slip an arm round Bodie’s waist, offering reassurance as well as physical support to the unsteady man.

“You okay?” Bodie asked, raising his hand to run his fingers through Doyle’s hair until they rested on his partner’s neck. “Ray?”

“Oh course I’m fine, you mad bastard,” Doyle replied tartly, adrenaline racing through him. “Come on, let’s clear off before curious bodies descend.”

“A bit of a workout, was it?” Bodie teased, moving his hand across the back of Doyle’s head to shake free a few small sticks and leaves that were wound loosely in the curly hair.

“A bit,” Doyle answered as a hint of a smile drifted across his face at Bodie’s comment. “There, mate. That looks like our exit.” The last hint of sunset lit up a human sized hole in the dark hedgerow highlighting a small gate. The sweeping branches of a large tree and the not quite square angle to this side of the field served to partially hide the opening. Doyle carefully nudged them toward the open gate.

Doyle let Bodie go as they stepped into the deep shadows under the tree. His partner grabbed hold of the old wooden post near the gate, easing his weight against it. Bodie could have a rest while Doyle checked their path forward. He leaned against the other corner and casually scanned over the area. _All clear_. A quick look at Bodie, their gazes meeting then he held out his left arm to his mate. They stepped through the quaint little gate, moving away from the field onto a paved road.

In the dim light of dusk, the road appeared to wander endlessly through the countryside. Doyle remembered from his earlier map reading that several of the local roads ran east and west. Hopefully this route eventually connected the pub with the village of Somerton. West led back to the warm pub and their car. It also led them toward the potential dangers of the mob of trouble that had started the agents’ circuitous travels. 

Across the road lay a field, the sounds of the high grass gently waving in the breeze a gentle guide. Doyle shivered as a finger of air stroked across his cheek and teased through the open gap of his coat. The temperature had dropped making the air decidedly chillier. Yet another reason to get back to the car. While he secured his coat as best he could, he noted that trees lined one side of the road near the open field. The hedgerow continuing into the darkness joined on the other side by more brush obscuring the far side of the road’s verge. More trees dotted the horizon, thickening into a hardwood forest. Doyle assumed from his brief scan of the map earlier that the woods eventually thinned back to fields and flowed gently toward the river - one of the reasons they had originally driven up here.

“Let’s move over to the verge, eh Bodie? Any auto sounds, we can hotfoot it to the trees in no time. Avoid any unwanted attention as we manoeuvre ourselves back to the pub.”

“Shame we can’t drop in for a pint. It’s cold enough tonight, a deep one would be welcome.”

“Yeah.” Doyle glanced at Bodie, confused until he realised his mate couldn’t get his coat closed, his fumbling with the zipper a struggle he couldn’t seem to win. “Idiot. Why didn’t you say you were having trouble? You know you need to button up or you’ll have a head cold on top of that concussion.”

“I can do it,” Bodie grumbled, looking thoroughly annoyed with his hands not doing what his head couldn’t seem to tell them to do.

“I know you can,” Doyle agreed, soothing potential hot feelings from his partner. “Let me help?” 

“Shit!” whispered from the embarrassed man. His tone may have been quiet, but his temper obviously wanted loose. “Do it then.” Doyle felt the hem of Bodie’s coat, trying to get the zipper to line up properly. “Maybe a hand’s needed to check my trousers’ zip too? What about some assistance while I crap in the weeds over there?” Bodie gestured strongly with his right arm, swinging it out over Doyle’s head as the curly headed man leaned closer to force the coat zipper to work. With a couple of quick jerks, the bottom of Bodie’s coat sealed closed.

“That’s all right, mate. I’ll pass on the second offer, if you don’t mind.” Doyle stood up, completely within Bodie’s personal space. “As for the other, I’ll take a rain check. I’d prefer some place a bit warmer and drier before I start playing with your bits.”

For a long moment, neither man expressed a sound. It almost seemed as if the world took a deep breath then held it, waiting for an explosion or…

A quiet snicker escaped from Bodie, then Doyle felt his lover lean against him, chest to chest, bringing his hands up to gently grasp either side of Doyle’s curly head. Gentle lips caressed his cheeks before they moved down to stroke and lick his lips. Doyle wound his arms round Bodie’s waist and opened his mouth, encouraging the kiss until they were nearly wild with desire. 

Doyle leaned back from Bodie breaking their kiss, both men panting heavily. “You sure can pick a time, sunshine,” Doyle complained.

“Any time is the perfect time, or haven’t you heard?” 

“Bodie, you break into song I’ll thump you,” Doyle warned though his amusement wove through his voice.

Low grunts of laughter from Bodie then, “No singing, petal.” He took an unsteady step back. “None of the other either, I’m afraid. At least not until we’re out of here.” 

“Right. Come on, mate, looks like we’re in for a bit of a hike. Sooner we get back and finish this, the sooner we can progress to more than snogging,” Doyle whispered to Bodie as he slid his partner’s arm across his shoulder. 

“Just you and me, mate,” Bodie softly replied, his feelings loud and clear in his voice.

“Like usual.” Feeling returned and openly expressed from Doyle, though none of it declaring a tenth of the feelings behind the words exchanged. 

~~~

With little interference from the climate or locality, Bodie and Doyle found themselves crouching out of sight across from the gate that led to the George and Dragon’s back garden. They hadn’t heard anything since Doyle’s argument earlier in the day with the gang. That fact alone whispered a number of warnings through both agents’ minds.

“Goin’ to look round,” Doyle murmured to his partner, glancing at the silent figure kneeling in the high grass next to him.

“With Lady Luck’s attitude lately, that’d be prudent,” Bodie agreed. His leather coat creaked as he leaned more weight against a nearby tree, using its solid mass to help him balance.

“I’ll do a quick round, then come back and pick you up.” Doyle shifted up onto his knees, then stopped when he felt the weight in his left coat pocket bang against his hip. “I forgot about this little leveller I picked up from that group earlier,” Doyle quietly said, pulling the automatic from his pocket and handing it over to Bodie. 

Bodie eased the loaded magazine from the Colt and went over the pistol quickly and thoroughly, his proficiency assured with or without light or sight. “I’ll just aim between the two bodies I see. That should insure I hit something important.”

“Just don’t go shooting me when I come back, hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear.”

“Be careful, mate,” Doyle whispered, leaning in to lay a gentle kiss on Bodie’s lips.

“Ta.” 

Doyle slipped off to his left, circling slowly round the building. He kept back from the dimly lit pathway that followed the outside of the picket fence enclosing the back half of the George and Dragon’s garden. Several large rectangle-shaped earthen planters were set along the outside of the fence. They were probably pretty under normal circumstances, but as Doyle scanned across that area, they were throwing distorted shadows and creating depth that could hide danger. He smothered an annoyed curse at the things when something moved in one of those deep shadows. The agent remained still: silent and watchful as he let his peripheral vision cover both sides of the long pathway. Another flick of motion further down – Doyle slowly moved his head, as silent and soft as a leaf settled by the breeze. His lips twitched upward, but no smile broke loose as a small grey cat padded into the wan reflected light from the garden. Doyle still waited, his instincts still twitching in alarm, but no hint of danger appeared.

He edged carefully through the brush, moving past the first corner to have a good look at the front side of the building. A security light mounted over the main entrance cast illumination over the gravelled lot that served as parking for the pub. Its light was muted by the weather - an uncomfortable mixture hovering between a wispy mist but too thin for fog. Only a couple cars were in the lot, a battered grey Vauxhall parked close to the front door, the other, a yellow VW Transporter sat between where Doyle crouched and the Capri. Lights filled the windows of the George and Dragon, filtered by curtains drawn against the night.

Doyle continued round, staying hidden as he passed behind the Capri to check round the other side of the pub. _Where had the rest of the gang gone? Could they be inside – or were they still wandering the countryside looking for us?_ Doyle had his doubts they were still outside. He just didn’t think they’d have the determination to keep looking without someone forcing them to continue. 

He had decided to make a try for the Capri when a branch snapped behind and off to the left of him. Doyle froze, deliberate as he scanned the area behind him, suspicious of men moving in on his location. A slight motion out of the corner of his eye had him ducking a swung tree limb that had been aimed at his head. The strike abruptly stopped when it impacted with a nearby tree, allowing Doyle to follow the branch to the body swinging it, delivering a savage blow to the lower belly followed by a strong uppercut fuelled by all the rage he had been controlling for the last several hours. 

He stepped away from the downed man, his moaning a sure signal for the others to target. Sounds of movement through the brush warned Doyle to action, as noise from the parking area told of more bodies rushing toward his location. He quickly stepped deeper into the woods hoping to avoid a trap before he could get back to Bodie.

He had only gone a dozen steps when a slight noise of shifting leaves alerted Doyle just as a knife flashed toward his chest. He leapt back, his back impacting against a tree as he avoided the man’s first charge. The security light briefly illuminated a wicked smile dominating the features of his opponent helping to identify him as one of the older men Sean had working for him. While his mind abstractly filtered the identity, noting the sure way the man handled his knife, Doyle shifted left, moving off the tree to obtain room to fight. The man made a faint move to his left then rushed Doyle from the right. The agent kicked viciously at the man’s knee, a dangerous smirk flashing at the audible pop that followed his blow. He swept the knife hand aside and stepped closer to knee his screaming adversary in the groin. As the man collapsed to the ground, Doyle knocked the knife out of his hand and ran toward the corner of the building.

“Get ‘em!” an unknown voice yelled behind Doyle. The sounds of pursuit encouraged another burst of speed from the agent. A gunshot roared, blowing chips of mortar and brick across Doyle’s shoulders as he rounded the building, heading to the back of the pub.

“You couldn’t hit the church bell at ten paces, could you, cretin!” cursed a voice Doyle remembered hearing earlier in the day. 

Quickly Doyle did the math in his head as he hurried back into the surrounding brush. Two shot, but they could possibly be here after Bodie and he had made their initial escape. Three eliminated while they were manoeuvring their way back to the pub. Two more down just now, one should be unconscious for a while and the other definitely injured. Doyle stopped as he neared the back corner of the pub. 

That means five men should be out of action, three men unhurt and two men questionable. 

Shit.

Doyle eased round the building until he could see the back gate of the George and Dragon. Two men were visible by the gate; Sean with a gun aimed at Bodie and Ian, who held the mike from the Capri, which he swung in a lively circle to easily display it. Seeing the two men standing shoulder to shoulder brought to mind the last encounter the agents had with these two men.

~~~

{flashback from earlier that day}

The gang shifted minutely, nervous as they watched the two silent, grim men standing in front of them. No one had stood up to them before; so far they’d succeeded in the game of intimidation they’d played with the surrounding township. Now they were unsure, waiting for a sign to determine what action to take.

Not a sound broke the frozen moment until both parties heard a scared whisper from the far corner of the bar. “…Alyssa. Put me through to the police. It’s important!” Her form barely visible where she had squeezed between the back counter and the wall, anything else Mary might have said proved inconsequential when Ian suddenly appeared in front of her, startling a wispy squeak out of her. 

He firmly took the phone from her frozen grip. “Now then me girl, you’re not lookin’ for trouble, are you?” Ian whispered, his hand firmly over the bottom half of the handset. Mary numbly shook her head, still frozen in place.

“’Atta girl.” Ian handed the phone back to her. The crowd of men could just hear a woman’s voice on the line, her tone informed all of her worry when Mary didn’t answer her. “Now, tell dear ‘lyssa that things are fine and not ta worry.”

Mary placed the phone back to her ear only to pull it away again as Alyssa yelled out Mary’s name, obviously growing alarmed. “Alyssa?” Mary took a breath, then exhaled noisily in exasperation. “Alyssa! Let me get a word in, dear.” Mary started to speak but Alyssa interrupted her again. “No, there’s nothing to worry about.” Mary paused and took a breath, then paused again. “We’re fine here. Don’t worry the Sergeant, love. The toe-rags ‘ave gone.” A quick glance toward Ian expressed Mary’s fear as she watched the man shift impatiently: definitely giving the impression her conversation had better finish quickly or else. 

“Alyssa… Alyssa, just you never mind with bothering the Sergeant, you ‘ear me? The problem’s been fixed. Right? Okay, love. Ta.” 

Ian pulled the handset away from Mary, then reached for the phone and viciously pulled the cord from the wall. Tossing it away, he turned back to Mary, leaned against the bar to gain a little more reach, and smashed her with a hard backhand across the mouth. “Toe-rags, Mary?”

Mary collapsed to the floor behind the bar, crying from shock and pain.

“That’s not nice,” Bodie purred silkily, interrupting Ian as he began to reach over the bar to drag Mary up again.

“Typical behaviour for general lowlifes, if you ask me,” Doyle replied, his body relaxed and ready though he continued to watch several of the boys for any aggressive moves. He’d relegated several of the younger boys as minimum risk, doubting their fighting skills were too involved. However that still left five opponents who would love to bash both their heads in.

Sean frowned angrily at Doyle before turning his gaze back to the bar. “I don’t think these two approve of your action against dear Mary, Ian.”

“Bollocks what they think!” Ian sneered as he walked around the corner of the bar to stand slightly behind and to the left of Sean’s shoulder.

“Know what I think, Ray?” Bodie asked, tense in preparation of trouble. He could feel the rising tension, his senses warning that he had better be prepared for upcoming battle.

“What’s that?” Doyle shifted slightly away from Bodie, putting a small space between them to spread their coverage. _Here it comes_ , he thought, sensing the fulcrum in their little stand off finally tilting out of balance.

“I expect these fine young men will rue the day they began down this path of crime,” Bodie informed them, his voice growing colder and more menacing as he continued. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, hitting a woman, gentlemen. It’s just not done.”

“Totally unacceptable behaviour. Is more the actions of bollock-brained twits instead of upstanding men of the community,” Doyle added, falling into the familiar cadence that had always annoyed their mates at CI-5. 

“I completely agree. Of course, we could be wrong, you know.”

“What? Are you saying these gentlemen aren’t pillars of the community after all?” Doyle continued to play along, watching the confusion grow among the younger boys as they twitched and squirmed behind the older members of the gang, unsure whether they were being insulted or not. Now the older bunch, they knew all right.

“Yea. It’s a shame, innit? Just goes to show ‘ow low pretentious twats can…” Ian cut into Bodie’s vocal shredding when he broke away from the group, crossing the space between them with the obvious intent of pounding Bodie into the ground. 

I’ll teach you,” Ian growled as he threw a roundhouse punch at Bodie’s head.

“Now, now, my son, you shouldn’t let your temper run away with your brain,” Bodie taunted as he easily dodged the first punch and the following one. He stepped to the side and laid a solid jab into Ian’s ribs, forcing a gasped gulp to explode from the young man. Ian wheezed painfully and drooped ungainly against one of the barstools as he tried to draw an easy breath, then just seemed to collapse to the ground. Bodie stood tense, part of his attention on the downed man and the rest on the uncommitted crowd. Anger was easy to deal with; someone with intelligence in this mob could make this difficult.

Meanwhile, Ray avoided one punch to his midsection as another man threw a jab at his jaw. He shifted slightly, letting the body blow slide off with minimum effect as he blocked the headshot. A front snap kick at the first man dropped him to the ground, then he quickly spun to intercept the second man’s fist as it again drove toward his head. He grabbed the clenched fist as it skimmed passed his ear and pulled, flipping his attacker over his hip into an awkward sprawl.

The two agents worked easily, moving in concert as they prevented the gang from separating them, neither leaving his partner’s back unprotected as they attempted to overpower the hotheads that wanted to fight. 

“Goddammit, there are only two of them, you cretins. Can’t you handle a pair of fruits?” Sean yelled, angry that even with it three to two, the two outsiders were beating his men. He turned to urge more members to move forward and enter the fight. Before he could complete his motion, the larger of the two blokes knocked yet another of his fighters into unconsciousness. 

“Who’re you callin’ fruits, you sad, scabby arsed bastard,” Bodie growled at Sean and took a step toward him. Doyle finished off his third opponent, sending him to the ground with a hard blow to the solar plexus.

“Son of a bitch! No one calls me that,” Sean snarled, anger finally completely overwhelming his control. He pulled a Beretta semi-automatic pistol from his pocket and aimed it at Bodie. 

Doyle turned toward the escalating disaster to see Sean flex his hand on the pistol’s grip. It seemed like slow motion as he watched the man’s finger tighten on the trigger. Without thought Doyle lunged at his partner, determined to sweep him off his feet with a desperate takedown. He had just wrapped his arms around Bodie’s hips when the report of the bullet leaving the gun swept over the area. He felt the jolt from the impact of their bodies smashing together, heard a grunt then a louder groan as Bodie collapsed on top of him.

Doyle scrambled out from under his stunned partner, noting Bodie barely moving, _thank you, Lady, he’s alive_ , his body twisted slightly so Bodie was tilted partly onto his stomach. The spreading red fluid slowly inched outward from underneath the wounded agent, staining the wood floor and driving Doyle completely into a protect/defend mentality. Doyle pulled his gun from its holster and pointed it toward Sean, but the man hurriedly pulled back behind the milling gang that had stood at his back. The agent growled in anger at losing his prey, however he didn’t have time to pursue the bastard. Two of the men Doyle had subdued were slowly climbing to their feet, shaking off the fight with swift determination. _Ave to get Bodie out of ‘ere, fast_.

“Hold it.” The absolute promise of death growled from Doyle’s voice if they didn’t heed his words. 

Everyone froze for an all-important few seconds, while Doyle rose with Bodie’s right arm held over his shoulder. He quickly jammed his gun into the front of his trousers and pulled his partner closer with a firm arm around Bodie’s waist, giving the shaky man support to stand. Sean broke the paralysis of the moment by shouting at his gang. “What the hell’s wrong with you lot? Get ‘em!”

Another shot rang out, impacting the wooden pillar just to Ray’s right. Doyle pushed through his partner’s lack of response, making him take a step, then another until they were scrambling and careening around the tables that stood between them and the freedom of the back door.

Doyle ducked instinctively as another shot shrieked past, slamming into the back of the chair he had grabbed for momentary support. The sounds of bodies hurriedly moving grew louder behind him. Doyle moved them closer to the wall next to the corridor, brought his pistol up, turned and began to lay down several shots toward the mob trying to kill them. Bodies abruptly changed courses, dodging behind anything solid as Doyle planted several bullets into the pillar and along the side of the bar. He targeted the wall near where several of the boys were crouched, determined to scare as many of young ones as possible, hoping they’d reconsider who they continued to run with. Seeing the dark tufts of a recognisable head of hair, Doyle fired one final shot just above the top of the bar – its trajectory taking it just off Ian’s nose when he stuck his head up to have a quick look around.

With that as a well-timed goodbye, the agents staggered drunkenly down the corridor until they were through the unlocked door and out, skidding in the pea gravel as they barrelled across the formal path and onto the grass of the garden. 

Doyle took a quick look round, spotted the gate in the neat picket fence winding through the rhododendron shrubs and shade trees that marked the garden’s boundary. They had made it to the gate when the back door squeaked open and two of the larger gang members pushed through. Keeping their bodies turned so he stood between his partner and any trouble from the pub, Doyle hurriedly crabbed Bodie through the gate. He saw one of the men raise a gun and fire it. Subconsciously he noted the weapon’s make, a Python, as he raised his right arm to return fire. The gunman managed the one shot, which went wild before Doyle managed to incapacitate first the gunman with a quick shot through his dominate shoulder, then the other man with a shot through his thigh. 

He quickly moved Bodie past the garden and out of sight, the screams of pain and hate following them into the deep shade of the trees nearby.

{End flashback}  


~~~

“I know you’re out there, so you’d just better come out where I can see you,” Sean yelled into the darkness. The man stood behind Bodie, his right hand gripping tightly at the curve of the agent’s shoulder and neck. The other hand held the Beretta, its barrel inches off the wounded man’s ribcage. “I’m not feelin’ very patient right now, so don’t make me wait.”

Doyle didn’t hesitate, believing the aggravation he could hear in Sean’s voice. He stepped out of the brush, ducking under the low-lying limbs of the trees to stand isolated and exposed. He could see the three men standing near the back gate, a bright shaft of light cutting across the darkness to illuminate one side of their bodies. The men cast long shadows that crawled off toward the brush to join the surrounding darkness.

Ian scanned the surrounding area, looking for movement in the shadows. He noticed a slight displacement in the shifting shadows to his right. Straining to see better through the gloom, Ian started to grin when he saw a solid shadow separate from the group of trees. “Well, look what we ‘ave ‘ere,” Ian gloated with apparent satisfaction taunting the silent man standing clear of the protecting forest. 

Following Ian’s gaze, Sean felt victorious when he observed the arrival of his final obstacle to the rule of his mob. “You two ‘ave really given us a run. But it’s time to pay your tab,” Sean definitely felt in control, particularly with a hostage to force compliance.

“Time to exact blood for blood, you mean. Come ‘ere, you. You owe me family a debt for shooting Derry,’ Ian yelled, gesturing at Doyle to encourage him to keep walking toward the three men. He tossed the radio mike off to the side, no longer interested in holding it. After all, he’d have better things to do with his hands before long.

“Just you keep comin’, me lad. Wouldn’t want your friend ‘ere suffering through this alone, would you?” Sean hissed viciously, poking Bodie hard enough to draw a soft grunt from him.

Doyle continued forward, keeping his hands away from his waist to show he wanted no trouble while the threat to Bodie remained. “All right, take it easy.” He’d slipped his gun into the back waistband of his jeans just before he stepped out. Hopefully these amateurs would make a mistake before anyone found it. Another wild card would be the gun he had given to Bodie. 

“Thought you’d get away, dinnt you,” Ian drawled, his urge for vengeance clear in his voice.

“Yeah,” Doyle replied, matter of fact, stopping just short of the pool of light shining through the open gate. A body length separated him from this loud mouth, yet he couldn’t simply attack without some hint Bodie could respond.

“Bet it’s been difficult with this wounded Angus bull you’ve been carting round,” Sean sarcastically taunted, giving Bodie another poke in the side. 

Doyle watched his partner’s expression tighten slightly before levelling into the smooth, unemotional façade he frequently showed to the world. Their eyes locked for an instant, a quick eyebrow arched and the telltale flick of Bodie’s eyes toward Sean then the ground told Doyle what he needed to know.

“Come on, then. Hand over the gun,” Ian demanded. 

“Dropped it out front, dinnt I,” Doyle stated, adjusting his approach so he casually inched closer to the shrubbery. When he finally came to a stop, he stood just outside the shaft of light. At Ian’s gesture to prove his statement, Doyle slowly pulled his jacket zip down to show the shoulder holster was empty and no gun was visible. Just a couple more paces and he’d be ready.

“Shit!” Ian shouted and reached out for Doyle’s arm, his expression promising heavy retribution. He took one step then another toward Doyle, not realising he was moving too far from Sean. Stepping into shadows, all Ian saw was his adversary – someone he was totally focused on damaging to the point of death.

“Sorry, old son, it wasn’t really my idea to lose it. Unavoidable really considering the slag was trying to stick me at the time.” Doyle took another slight step to his right, moving close enough to the fence and hedges lining the back garden to have stepped into moderately deep shadows just as Ian managed to grab his arm. Doyle just hoped it was dark enough to pull this stunt off.

As soon as Ian felt the leather covered arm within his grasp, he tried to pull the agent near. “Bloody wanker, want to snog with your ‘mate’ before I wupp you,” he softly growled. “

Doyle let the young man’s momentum pull him forward, giving him added power when he followed through with a strong right hand punch to Ian’s solar plexus. “No, you mad scunt,” he taunted in a dangerous, low snarl. A nearly silent gag of pain from Ian was quickly covered by Doyle, who let out a loud, fake groan and folded against his opponent, making it look like he was the one injured. He made sure they were turned so Sean would see only Ian’s back and carefully held the other man up, hoping the deeper shadows near the fence would help this ploy work.

“See that, you buftie bastard,” Sean taunted, turning his attention to Bodie when he pulled away after hearing Doyle’s cry of pain. “Don’t worry though. You’ll get your dose of that soon as Ian’s finished with your friend.”

Bodie ground his teeth in frustration; he hated waiting. He hated letting this moron hang all over him. He hated that his head felt like it was trying to come off. Mostly though, he hated that they’d burned up more than half a day dealing with this shit. The Cow was going to flail them over this. Bodie’s features twisted into a silent snarl as Ian squeezed his neck again. Playing it more injured was a sound tactical move, but really, it was time to deal with these crackers.

Another moan of pain drifted over from the huddled men as they shifted around a bit. _Come on, Ray. What are you waiting for?’_ Bodie silently questioned, growing frustrated by the whole mess.

“Now.” 

Bodie nearly missed Doyle’s signal it was whispered so softly, though thankfully it freed him to finally act. He let his weight lean against Sean, then suddenly brought his left hand up to grab the restraining fingers that were pinching into his shoulder. 

“What?” Sean began to ask when all of Bodie’s weight shoved him off balance. Taking a wider stance, he tried to push the bigger man off him. 

Bodie did a sharp spin, and sending up a quick prayer that his balance would hold out, he folded Sean’s arm back while making a grab for the gun with his right hand. A quick twist of the wrist brought the gun up between them, Sean doggedly hanging on for dear life.

“You cock sucking mincer, I’m going to kill you!” Sean cursed as they struggled for the gun. 

“You can try, incompetent sop,” Bodie snapped back, bending Sean’s wrist back further, hoping to hear the distinctive crack of broken bones. 

Bodie felt his body failing him when he started listing, his balance still badly affected by the concussion. Instead of letting go and trying to strip the gun away from Sean, Bodie took a stronger hold on the other man, pulling him down. They both landed hard, Bodie on his back, knocking the breath from him momentarily. Sean landed on his elbow, then smacked the ground hard, finally losing his grip on the Beretta. The gun bounced end over end, eventually sliding to a stop beyond the lit strip of grass and gravel.

Seeing his partner engaged with Sean, Doyle pulled back from Ian and laid several strong body-shots across the man’s stomach and chest. He finished with an uppercut that laid the arrogant sod out. Ian toppled bonelessly to the ground, unconscious. Doyle reached under his coat in preparation to pulling his gun out when from behind him a new player in their drama demanded, “Hold still.”

Doyle straightened up slowly, his hands again spread wide to show no weapons. He could see his partner struggling with his opponent, Bodie’s injury evened out by Sean’s blatantly broken or dislocated arm. 

The two men were clumsily lurching across the ground on their knees, before they finally struggled to their feet. Sean threw a punch and missed, ending up lurching bodily into Bodie, knocking them both to the ground again. Both men wrestled round, attempts to gain their feet hampered by the other pulling them both back to the ground - both delivering blows in an attempt to disable the other – both working hard to reach the pistol laying just beyond their reach.

Doyle stood still for a long moment, keeping his body between the person behind him and his partner. Hopefully Bodie could deal with Sean on his own; Doyle knew he couldn’t help him unless the circumstances changed for the better. The agent felt a hand slide under the edge of his jacket and pull his gun loose from his waistband.

A quivering voice demanded, “Turn around.” 

Doyle turned slowly, his arms raised slightly higher, as he heard the anxiety in this new threat’s speech. _Should have expected this_ , Doyle thought as he eased round to eventually face Billy, who was holding Bodie’s missing automatic in a nervous, twitching hand. Doyle’s own gun was slipped into the waist of the slim teen’s trousers, temporarily out of his reach.

“Just you hold still,” Billy ordered, an obvious tremor marking his voice, matching the shake of his gun hand. The security light behind his form made his features difficult to read. Another visible twitch shook him as a loud shout of pain rose from behind Doyle.

“All right, just be calm,” Doyle responded, hoping to keep things from escalating into more violence. He really didn’t want to see this teenager hurt or killed just because he wanted to impress his brothers and gang leader.

“Move away from me brother,” Billy squeaked. He cleared his throat noisily and moved forward slightly, stepping through the gate to edge out of the back garden.

“All right, Doyle soothed, keeping his hands up, easily seen. He managed to step slightly to the side, moving back into the shadows as he faced the teenager. He watched as Billy eased down to lay a hand on Ian’s chest, obviously checking on his brother’s state. 

Doyle let a moment’s attention stray toward his partner, hoping he was okay, but only silence met his attempt. Not daring to take an actual look, Doyle returned his full attention back to his own problem.

“Why’d you lot have to show up?” Billy griped, a youngster’s angst at having his plans disrupted showing through. He glanced toward the two men on the ground behind his adversary, watched them feebly moving after they had apparently bashed each other silly before turning his attention back to the last remaining threat to their freedom. He rose slowly to his feet and waved the gun at Doyle. 

“It’ll all be okay, once you’re gone,” Billy growled, growing anger roaring through his voice. 

“No it won’t, Billy,” Doyle ground out. “It’s gone too far.” 

“It hasn’t!” Billy shouted, waving the gun. It fired in a sudden explosive burst, making both men flinch. Luckily the weapon had been pointed off to Doyle’s right, causing the bullet to impact somewhere in the shrubbery.

Doyle made a move toward the boy, but Billy centred the gun back on the agent. He knew any moment Billy’d let emotion bull passed reason and he and Bodie would pay the price. “Think, Billy. Don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

“Stupid! It’s you been stupid, stickin’ your nose in others’ business,” Billy hissed. “You two hurt me brothers, insult Sean, and cause me embarrassment in front of the mob,” the teenager ground out, his anger making his voice rougher and louder as he spoke. “Well, you shite, you’ll not mess with us again.”

Hoping to anticipate the shot, Doyle prepared to roll under Billy’s arm and come up with the boy contained. A silent second seemed to stretch into eternity as the agent took a breath. _One thousand one, one thousand two…_ he counted in his head, hoping he was timing this right, but with an amateur he just couldn’t be sure.

The sudden crack of a gunshot blew through the area, making Doyle jump. He froze, his arms still up and out in front of him as he turned his senses inward in an attempt to locate any injury. He felt no serious pain and glanced back at Billy in time to see him slowly wilt to the ground, the gun twirling loose on his finger before it slipped free to settle silently onto the grass.

A frown pulling his brows together, Doyle stepped over to the boy and picked up Bodie’s gun, slipping it into his jacket pocket. He quickly pulled his own pistol free from Billy’s clothes and shoved it into his holster before checking over the young man. A faint moan reassured Doyle that the teenager was still alive, though going by the blood seeping from his upper chest, he wouldn’t be if medical assistance didn’t arrive fairly soon.

“Bodie!” Doyle yelled over his shoulder, while he knelt down and began packing the wound in an attempt to save the teenager’s life. 

“Yeah?” Bodie replied, lying on his back where he’d dropped after taking one of the riskiest shots of his career. He blinked away a tear in blessed relief that he hadn’t missed. Who would have believed aiming between the two blurry figures would really give him a solid target?

“You okay?” Doyle ripped the outer shirt off Billy and stuffed it underneath his vest against the wound, then leaned hard against Billy’s chest.

“Sure, just a walk in the park, mate,” Bodie glibly replied, extending his arm and doing a little twirling flourish with his hand for emphasis. Dropping his hand to rest across his waist, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. _What a day_. The phrase tripped through his mind in time with the headache that was thundering round in his head. Bodie took another deep breath, held it for a moment, then whined, “Can we go now?” 

Doyle looked up at the tone of voice from his partner. Worry and aggravation mixed as he looked over their battlefield then back at his partner. So far none of the combatants had moved – a good thing since he certainly wasn’t prepared to deal with multiple prisoners. “Moron, you know we can’t. You able to make it over ‘ere on your own?” Doyle asked, hoping Bodie was mobile enough to help out.

“Bloody ‘ell, Ray. My legs aren’t broken, you know,” Bodie sniped back, annoyed with the whole damn turn of events. He rolled onto his side and very carefully sat up. Choking back a moan of pain at the change of body position, Bodie squinted his eyes against the steadying drumming, swallowing several times as his stomach became unsettled at the motion. After all they’d been through, he was damned if he was going to throw up. Bodie eased gently to his knees, then to his feet. Not trusting his balance, he kept his eyes on his partner and moved very gingerly over to stand next to him.

Doyle looked up at his partner, noting the obvious weaving as Bodie stood there. A heavy frown pulled at his lover’s brow, a telltale sign the headache was still drilling away in Bodie’s skull. Doyle reached up and lightly pulled on his partner’s hand, urging him to kneel down. “Come ‘ere, mate.” 

Trying for a graceful descent, Bodie found himself sinking with more speed than he’d planned. He anxiously called, “Ray!” and hoped his partner could catch him before he hit the ground.

“’Ere now, none of that, old son.” Doyle rose quickly to his knees and wrapped a strong arm around Bodie’s waist, controlling his partner’s sinking form until he was settled on the ground comfortably. 

“If you’d keep pressure on this,” Doyle nodded toward the makeshift bandage shoved against Billy’s upper chest, “I can round up something to make sure those two don’t travel.” 

“Yea, I can ‘andle it.”

“Brilliant,” Doyle replied, moving out of Bodie’s way while his partner slipped in to handle the teen’s wound. Rising to his feet, Doyle pulled the Colt from his left jacket pocket. “Right. You might want this back, just in case,” he teased, handing the pistol to his partner with a warm grin.

“Ta,” Bodie answered, pleased to get his gun back. 

Doyle moved to Sean and bent down to turn the limp form over on his back. He unhooked the unconscious man’s belt then threaded the end through to make a loop. Moving Sean’s legs together, Doyle slipped the belt past his feet and tied his ankles tightly together, knotting the end of the belt to insure he stayed tied. Turning to his feet, Doyle pulled both of his shoes off and began to quickly strip the laces free from the shoes. Tying the two laces together with a quick knot, he secured Sean’s wrists in front just in case his arm **was** injured, leaving the slowly reviving man to wake on his own. Doyle quickly moved to Ian, securing the sluggish man in the same manner.

“All clear, mate. I’m going to check the pub,” Doyle stated while giving his lover a visual once over. Bodie’s complexion was worrisome as his features were almost alabaster in colour, giving the impression he was a ghostly apparition. “Bodie?” Doyle knelt down to look at his partner eye to eye. “You all right?”

“Yeah, tip top as usual.” 

The glassy-eyed look that stared back at Doyle made up his mind to hurry things as much as possible. It didn’t appear that Bodie would be functioning for much longer going by his appearance. “Hold it together for a little longer, sunshine. I want to check the pub and get the law called in.” 

“Cowley?” Bodie nodded absently and swayed slightly because of it. He straightened up, took another deep breath, and tried to pull his scattering thoughts back to the job. 

Doyle stroked a hand gently down the back of Bodie’s head, stopping when his hand cupped the back of his lover’s neck. “Cowley too.” Nodding at the still body of the boy, Doyle added, “Mind you keep pressure on that until I get back. Right?”

“Get goin’, mate. Just don’t take too long – I’m really need a lie down,” Bodie offered, making sure his partner understood his approaching limitations.

Doyle smiled at his partner and gave Bodie’s neck a gentle squeeze. “Running all the way, partner,” he teased, laughter hinting in his voice as he stood up.

Doyle moved cautiously through the back gate, squinting against the security light that was shining directly over the back door. Stepping off to the side, he moved quickly to the back wall, glad to step out of that killing zone without anyone shooting at him. He eased the door open, wincing at the expected creak from old hinges. Doyle grabbed a swift look down the corridor then stepped silently into the building, easing the old door shut behind him. Raised voices could be heard from the main room as Doyle worked his way down the corridor. He paused at the corner for a peek before committing himself. 

~~~

“What the ‘ell’s the matter with you twits?” Mary yelled, her fury off its leash as she rounded on two of the younger mob members visible near the front of the pub.

“There’s nothin’ the matter. We knows what we’re doin’” squawked from the taller lad, his head covered with spiky black tufts of hair. The belligerent attitude just served to enflame Mary’s anger.

“You know, do you?” If anything Mary’s voice gained more volume. “Brainless bastards, the lot of ya!” she fumed, smacking the other boy round his ear. “What’s your pa goin’ to do when he ‘ears his only son, the heir to the bloody estate was involved with Sean, stupid git that ‘e is. Can ya answer me that, Master Fletcher.”

“Since there’s no ‘bloody estate’ as you call it, what difference does it make what I do?” the russet headed boy Mary called Fletcher yelled back.

“It matters, because in the end, all you have is your good name, James.” Everyone stopped as this new voice joined in the group argument that had been building. Doyle glanced toward the front door and saw a tall, extremely thin man standing in the doorway. He looked about thirty, maybe thirty five, his pleasant features framed by short, mildly curly light brown hair. The uniform he was wearing was easily recognised as that of a Thames Valley Police officer. 

“Sergeant Greengrass,” Mary acknowledged, her relief clear in her voice. “Thank the Lord you showed up.” She looked at the two boys standing defensively against the front wall, then back at the officer as he moved into the building. Her eyes widened in surprise when two more police officers followed him inside. 

One of the officers closed the front door and stood just off from it, keeping an eye on the room and covering his superior’s back. The other officer, a young woman, slipped round the bar and disappeared from Doyle’s sight. He could hear her calling for an ambulance into her radio, so she must have found one of the mob that had been dispatched during one of their earlier encounters.

“Tell me what’s been happening, Mary,” Greengrass stated, his voice calm and assured. 

Doyle knew from experience that the officer had to be grateful that there wasn’t more mayhem visible considering what could have occurred with Sean and his mob involved. He was going to make this sergeant’s day by being one witness who’s willing to follow through on prosecution against this crew. Maybe that would finally relieve the pressures on this committee if someone were willing to stand up and tell the court what happened.

Mary opened her mouth to reply when Doyle stepped out of the corridor into the main room of the pub. “I think that’s my cue, don’t you, Mary?” he replied before she could say anything.

“‘Ere, he’s one of them that’s caused all the ruckus, though Sean’s mob was mostly to blame, I ‘ave to admit,” Mary offered her opinion as Doyle confidently moved round the tables and overturned chairs to approach the small group.

“Where **is** Sean?” the sergeant asked, watching Doyle approach, his expression guarded but hopeful. 

Doyle approached the policeman, comparing his past history with other men in blue to this young sergeant. He almost smiled when he considered that they were similar in their frustrations when the constraints of the law prevented either man from protecting the public from men like Sean. _I can offer a sense of payback on this case, at least.”_

“I ‘ave him tied up outside. And could you send a bit more ‘elp with that ambulance,” he asked, turning his head toward the young constable who had just finished the radio call for help. “My partner is injured, as well as a couple of the other lads, just outside the back garden,” Doyle gestured in the general direction, then turned back to Greengrass. He slowly reached into his inside jacket pocket and carefully pulled his ID out, handing it to the silent policeman. 

“CI-5?” Greengrass asked, surprised by the identification. “What might you be doing in my patch, Mr …” the policeman looked at the wallet closer, noting the name and other information listed there, “Doyle?” Greengrass asked, his curiosity visible as he handed the agent his wallet back.

Doyle gave a little grin of embarrassment as he replaced his identification. “Would you believe we came up for a spot of vacation?” He could hear the woman officer finishing her call in. Doyle felt a small bit of the tension easing off now that he’d arranged medical help for Bodie.

“Could we head back out there? I don’t want to leave my partner any longer than necessary,” Doyle asked the sergeant, who waved the curly headed agent toward the back door. “Oh, besides these two,” he waved in the general direction of the two boys, who had settled into chairs near the window, “there are two more injured men in the woods just past the car park. One is unconscious from a blow to the ‘ead, but the other might ‘ave a dislocated knee.” 

Greengrass signalled to the male constable to check out front for the men Doyle had mentioned. The CI-5 agent led the sergeant and his other constable through the corridor to the back door. As Doyle pushed it open, he paused, reaching back to his jeans’ pocket and pulled the closed knife out. “The git was trying to use this when we last met,” Doyle stated, handing the knife carefully to Greengrass, who pulled an evidence bag from his jacket pocket. Doyle dropped the knife into it when the Sergeant held it open. Doyle continued down the path to the back gate, pulling it open so he could get to his partner. 

Bodie was sitting partially slumped over, though he had made sure his weight had stayed on the wadded up shirt. At the rattling sounds from the gate, Bodie jerked, coming more alert in case new trouble was closing in on him. The gun came up, an instinctive move made smooth and deadly by years of desperate need.

“Bodie?” Doyle called, not moving through the gate until Bodie was assured concerning who was approaching him.

“Ray?” Fatigue rolled thickly through Bodie’s tones as he let the gun settle onto his lap.

Doyle approached, kneeling down to get eye to eye. “Help’s arrived, Bodie. Let’s get you inside.” 

“Can’t Ray, can’t let go of the boy. Can’t let him die, even if he did try and kill us both,” Bodie argued, his speech announcing his fatigue.

“I can take over, sir,” the young constable stated, her voice steady and clear as she knelt down on the other side of the lad, waiting to step in once Bodie moved away.

“Come on, mate. Let’s get inside, aye? Need to have that noggin of your looked at,” Doyle insisted, gently urging Bodie to his feet, with Greengrass on the other arm helping to support the wobbly agent as they walked him back to the pub. 

“I wonnt argue, for once,” Bodie replied with a sigh of relief as they eased him onto one of the chairs from the pub. “

“You’re joking, right?” Doyle softly teased, standing beside the chair. “You’d argue with the Devil hisself if it’d offer an advantage for you.”

“Kettle, calling the pot black, don’t you think, Ray?” Bodie jibed back, though it was lacking in his usual enthusiasm. 

“Gentlemen, could you give me a brief summary, please?” Greengrass asked, interrupting. 

The agents traded tired looks, then briefly began to go through the events that had occurred over the last several hours. 

~~~

Epilogue  


Three days later

 

Bodie stood in the kitchen, glancing out the window as he brought the cup of tea to his mouth with obvious pleasure. The sigh of contentment whispered into the cup as he sipped the strong brew. A tingle of irritation pulled at his brow, making him aware of the healing wound. 

After three days of sleep and mothering from his determined partner, Bodie felt good as new, the only signs he had been ill were the occasional fleeting touches of headache, which were mere ghosts compared to the monster ache he had dealt with.

He realised that one itch he was happy to feel again was urging him to run his absent partner to ground… now. A smirk bloomed on his face as he considered his patient lover’s reaction to the resumption of their more **active** sexual practices.

He could hear Ray softly whistling outside the back door of the cottage. No telling what the man was getting up to. “Ray!” Bodie yelled, curiosity getting the better of him. “What’re you doin’?” he continued 

“Relaxing, just like you,” Doyle replied, his contented state of mind audible in his voice. 

Luckily for both men, the last several days of quiet were just the thing to counter their frantic tour of the countryside earlier in the week. Luckily Cowley had been willing to extend their time away, counted against their vacation time, of course. 

So, with nearly two weeks leave in front of them, both men had settled into the cottage for some well-earned rest and relaxation. Bodie only had to stay overnight at the local hospital before Doyle had brought him back to their little nest away from the world. And Lady Luck had finally seemed to take pity on them both in the form of clear, warming days, with little hint to how early into spring it really was. 

That first day was spent in bed, holding each other, kissing when contact was requested – sleeping when needed, and Bodie needed it, with one or the other only leaving their pile of quilts and pillows for necessary pit stops to the kitchen or the bog. Once both men had recharged their batteries somewhat, the easy contact had led to slightly more strenuous exercise. 

Gentle loving for both men had reaffirmed their connection. 

The usual games they played would wait. Doyle knew as soon as Bodie felt ready for that bit more in their sexual play, he’d say so. Fucking each other against the wall or whatever surface was handy was a bloody marvellous experience but it wasn’t necessary to feel alive. 

“What are you doing out ‘ere, Ray?” a soft voice queried as Bodie stepped through the back door into the little garden.

“Soaking up the sun, mate,” Doyle responded from the lawn chair he was sprawled across.

“You’re goin’ to cause a riot, lookin’ like that, sunshine,” Bodie teased, enjoying the view of his lover greeting the late-morning sun with not a stitch of clothing on.

“Yeah?” A curly head glanced up, peering over the top of his dark sunglasses before reclining his head once more to rest against the back of the chair. “Your head acting up again, Bodie?” Doyle asked, grinning. “I don’t see anyone nearby for me to worry about.”

“What am I then?” Bodie teased, his voice rising in affronted curiosity. He wandered over to stand next to Ray where he was laid out like a feast for hungry consumption.

“Right now, shade. Could you shift over,” Doyle’s voice sounded half-asleep. “I’d like to sunbathe a while longer.”

“Oh you would, would you?” Bodie replied, a grin growing on his face. “By all means, let me stroll out of your way then,” the agent said quite seriously as he minced round the foot of the chair to stand on the other side of Ray’s chair. “Do you need anything, milord? Crackers, cheese, a coffee, or possibly a glass of water?” Bodie asked all prim and proper. He leaned down and picked up the half-filled glass of cold water that had been left outside overnight and lifted it over his partner’s prone form. “Let me get that for you.”

“What?” Cold water hitting sun-warmed skin produced expected results. “Arrgghh! Shit, Bodie what the ‘ell was that for?” Doyle asked as he jumped up, straddling the chair with droplets of water running down his chest and stomach. 

“Just trying to ‘elp, Ray,” Bodie chirped, his snickers of laughter escaping his control.

“Really,” Doyle stated, moving toward his partner.

Bodie stopped near the back door and turned to watch Ray, his liquid, stalking prowl a bewitching sight. Bodie became so distracted by the sight approaching him, he forgot to run.

“Hmm,” Doyle murmured as he leaned against Bodie, who was blocking the doorway. Bodie felt Ray gently pulling his head down to press a strong, hungry kiss against his eager lips. Strong arms swept passed his sides to stroke up and down his back in firm lines of contact, rubbing across the soft, cotton shirt Bodie had slipped on this morning. 

“Ahh, yeah, Bodie,” Doyle mumbled as he slowly undulated his hips against his lover, enjoying the sheer enjoyment of time alone together. 

Bodie leaned down and pressed an urgent kiss against Ray’s lips, practically eating the smaller man as his hands skimmed down silky skin until he cupped the sleek buttocks in his hands, pulling Ray harder against him.

“Oh, God, Bodie. Love the feel of your hands. Please touch me!”

Bodie pulled away from Ray’s lips, moving down his jaw to his mouth and kiss across the slight beard stubble covering his throat. He loved lingering here, tasting the life pounding through his partner as the pulse thrumming just under the skin warmed with his randy partner’s excitement. His hands wandered from Ray’s buttocks to caress his slender waist and lower back.

Bodie had to contain the urge to laugh in happiness when his lover groaned in response to Bodie biting down on his pulse point, leaving a mark for anyone to see. Bodie knew his partner loved these little displays of possessiveness from him. He didn’t feel the need to mark his lover’s skin that often - but it always made them both feel exhilarated by the physical demonstration of his love.

They hadn’t indulged in a rough and tumble bout in a couple of weeks. In fact, they hadn’t engaged in much more than a cuddle and kiss since leaving London nearly four days ago. Bodie raised his head from Ray’s neck and noticed his partner’s open grin grow feral as his desire climbed in response to Bodie’s continued petting.

“What do you want, mate?” Bodie whispered against Ray’s lips, teasing them both while he carefully moved them both inside the house, then kicked the kitchen door closed. 

“You. Only you, love.” 

The two men waltzed through the kitchen, avoiding the furniture with a minimum of bruises, never completely breaking physical contact as they kissed and stroked each other. Their arousal was fuelled by the sexual hunger of two healthy males in the prime of life. That and the lack of release for more days than was usual had them climbing rapidly toward completion.

Bodie pulled away from another deep kiss with a gasp, panting for breath. He looked round and noted they had made it to the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. Across from them was the building’s main room, with an unlit fireplace, several comfortable looking lounge chairs and a large, dark brown leather sofa, which faced toward the ornate fireplace.

“Which do you want, sunshine, comfort or frenzy?” Bodie asked his naked partner, noting Ray’s obvious interest by his penis, fully engorged and riding high on Ray’s abdomen.

“What a choice,” Doyle muttered to himself, a smirk of happiness lighting his face.

“Isn’t it just. Should I make the choice, Ray?” Bodie teased, running a light hand down his partner’s shoulder, crossing his back, to finally settle on the rise of one buttock. “Do you want someone else in control, Ray? Can you willingly submit?” Bodie tightened his hand, pulling Ray close, his tight grip urging his partner up on his toes for another hungry kiss. He pulled back from the kiss only to wrap both arms round his partner, encouraging a mutual full body hug. “Love you so much,” Bodie whispered, feeling Ray’s arms as they tightly wrapped around his waist.

“As do I, Bodie,” Doyle replied, laying his head against Bodie’s shoulder as he squeezed firmly in happiness.

Bodie felt Ray shift slightly, his arms loosening their grip, then a sharp pinch of teeth at the base of his throat made Bodie pull away. “You little devil,” Bodie said in momentary surprise, then smirked at Ray, knowing what they were going to do. By Ray’s expression, he knew the decision had been made too.

“Come on, Vlad. Get over to the sofa and spread ‘em.” 

Ray laughed aloud. “Spread ‘em? Is that all you can come up with?” He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his hip in a flagrant flaunt of his body, throwing a definite dare back at Bodie.

“Oh, I can come up with much more than that, “Bodie threatened and made a move to grab the thin body into another bear hug.

Doyle skipped easily out of Bodie’s reach, skirting past one of the chairs before he stopped and grinned at his partner. 

“You’re asking for it all right,” Bodie growled, thrilled to play with his partner. In fact, he felt ecstatic they were here willing and able to play after their latest escapade.

“You think so, do you?” Doyle backed round the large table set in front of the sofa as Bodie silently stalked him. “Well, I don’t agree. In fact, I think it’s time for a hot bath, followed by a cooked meal.” He dodged round another chair on the other side of the sofa after Bodie lunged for him and missed. “Don’t you agree, Bodie?” Doyle taunted, teasing his partner.

“I can think of several things I’d prefer doing right now. Bathing isn’t one of them,” Bodie calmly stated, then in a rush of motion, planted a foot on the sofa as he vaulted over its back in his rush at Ray. He wrapped an arm round his partner’s middle, twisting Ray’s right arm behind him as he shoved them both against the rear side of the sofa – driving a grunt from them both with the impact.

“Is that so. What might you ‘ave in mind then,” Doyle mouthed off, his head hanging down was almost able to touch the sofa cushions. 

Bodie pulled off the appealing body and laid a sharp slap across the shapely bottom, which caused Ray to try and rear upright with a sudden gasp of breath. “I might ‘ave a grope and spank session on my mind, or… “ Bodie released Ray’s arm and leaned down along his back, driving him deeper into the padded furniture, forcing a gasped groan as Bodie reached out to snag a small Woolworth’s bag that was tucked into one corner of the leather sofa.

“Or?” Doyle verbally pushed, wanting Bodie now, in no mood for the niceties of romance at the moment. 

“Or we can scratch an itch, ‘ere and now.” Bodie planted a strong hand in the middle of Doyle’s back, holding him steady as well as in place. “Hold still.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Doyle demanded, his voice deepening and growing rougher in tone as he let his arousal wind tighter and tighter. He pushed against the hand, testing how much room he had to manoeuvre. He raised his head and tried to look over his shoulder when he heard the small paper bag they had brought home the day before rip open and spill a number of items onto the floor. He felt Bodie shift until he was standing between Doyle’s legs, the front of his trousers rubbing against his bare legs and bum.

“Need a ‘and, do you?” Doyle taunted, a laugh hiding within his voice.

“No, I do not,” Bodie replied. He managed to get the little top off the tube of KY they had picked up from the chemist. Giving it a good squeeze, Bodie heard a quick pop of air from the tube, then a large glob of the stuff coiled out to land on Doyle’s bare lower back.

“Bodie! Damnit, that’s cold!” he complained, bucking in reaction to the sudden sensation.

“Quit complaining. It’s not that bad,” Bodie replied calmly. He stroked fore and middle fingers through the gel and began to rub them together with his thumb, spreading and warming the gel. “Besides, I remember something similar ‘appening to me a couple of weeks ago.”

“It’s all in your imagination, you berk. Never occurred,” Doyle promptly replied, as he tried to shift his body slightly, the height of the sofa was just so that he had to work at keeping his feet on the ground. Any slight movement would push him forward until he was balanced on his stomach, with his upper body left hanging and Bodie’s grip the only thing keeping him from taking a tumble onto the sofa cushions beneath his head.

“I’d be careful, mate. Name calling when in the you’re position might not be the brightest thing to do,” Bodie teased, giving Doyle’s backside another firm slap.

“Hey now, let’s be…” Doyle’s complaint rose into a yell, several notes higher than normal when a finger, thickly coated with gel was steadily pushed inside his bum. “Bastard,” he finally managed to articulate, taking another deep breath.

“There you go name callin’ again,” Bodie replied, not really thinking about the conversation as he concentrated on the feel of his lover’s body. He stroked his forefinger in, turning his hand to help spread the first swipe of gel into the warm bum he was going to invade very soon. Pulling his finger out, he stroked both fingers through the warming gel left on his lover’s back, collecting most of the KY and returned to the small hole he was intent on. He stroked gently across the tight opening, teasing the skin with light touches, drawing deep drawn out gasps of pleasure from his partner before slowly, oh so very slowly easing just the tip of his forefinger against the opening, breaching the muscle, then freezing all movement.

“Ah, damnit Bodie, don’t fucking tease like that,” Doyle whined, in no mood for gentle play.

“Whatever do you mean, Ray?” Bodie held his finger still, the tip just inside the hot body, holding the muscle open, but not allowing any sensation until Ray begged for it. He smiled wickedly as he listened to the tone of his lover’s voice, waiting. 

It wouldn’t take long now.

Doyle bucked backward as much as he could with his precarious balance, but he couldn’t force Bodie into moving. He knew what Bodie wanted; he just didn’t want to give in yet. However he needed more from Bodie in sensation, wanting to let go without worry. ‘Ahh, shit’. “Fine, you win. Please, Bodie?” 

“You call that begging? Oh, no. I think we need a bit more build-up before you’re ready to give in,” Bodie growled, leaning closer to Ray’s back, his weight pushing his hand tighter against the pert bottom before he stood straight again.

“Ready?” Bodie grabbed the open tube of KY that he had laid aside on the couch’s back cushion. He squeezed more gel onto the same spot on Ray’s back, drawing another muttered curse mixed with a quick breath from his partner. 

More gel was quickly inserted, now two fingers began to work at the tight muscles, making them loosen, rubbing against smooth flesh, which lit all manner of nerve endings with pleasure and anticipation. More gel, and more manipulation, the fingers driving in harder, opening the muscles wider until Ray was awash with feelings, his body tingling with an approaching orgasm only to have Bodie stop again.

“Goddamit, Bodie. I swear I’ll ‘urt you if you don’t get on with it,” Doyle snarled, not really present, his mind totally wrapped up in sensation. 

“Come on, Ray, you ‘ave to tell me,” Bodie coaxed, working his trousers open one handed, letting them sag downward, then drop to puddle around his ankles followed by his followed by his pants. 

Doyle shook his head side to side, refusing to give in, wanting to tease himself as high as he could before capitulating.

“Come on, you know you want to,” Bodie murmured, driving three fingers into Ray’s body, before slowly easing them out again. He leaned forward slightly and began to rub his erect penis across the loosened muscle, spreading more gel across his flesh with his fingers as he moved.

“Ah, Christ! Give it to me, Bodie. Give it to me, give it to me!” Doyle demanded, his voice rising in volume as well as pitch. 

“Well, that isn’t actually what I was ‘oping for, but it’ll do.” Bodie gave the opening one more rub, then pushed in on the next stroke. “Oh yeah,” he breathed out, his voice joining Ray’s as he vocalised his pleasure and pain. Bodie slowly continued to stroke inward, careful to pause whenever he felt Ray tighten up until he was pelvis to arse, skin to skin.

Bodie took several long, deep breaths, paused, then couldn’t wait anymore. The first backstroke pulled, drawing a sound of pain from Ray. Bodie squeezed more gel with a finger onto his slowly re-emerging penis, lightly spreading it toward the tip as it appeared before pushing in again.

Settling into a rhythm that both men preferred Bodie worked them toward their mutual goal. He let his hands stroke across winter-kissed skin, leaning down to change his angle of entry as well as giving him room to reach Ray’s chest, his neck, any bit of his mate he could stroke. 

Far too quickly, Bodie could feel the end building. He knew he couldn’t hold off this first good go, so he reached down and pulled on Ray’s shoulders until he was almost upright, then Bodie settled his weight against his partner’s hips. Ray was grunting low moans of pleasure in time with each thrust. Bodie wrapped his arms tightly round his lover’s chest, crossing his forearms until he could pull and play with the upright nubs.

Bodie let his head drop close to Ray’s skull, stroking his nose through the clean, curly hair, filling his nostrils with the scent of his lover. Dropping one hand to Ray’s groin, he stroked a light touch across the rigid column, feeling a strong pulse stiffen it even more.

Bodie moved his focus, licking up Ray’s neck, tasting the salty sweat of his mate’s excitement. Bodie mouthed the area under his right ear, tasting and teasing, then he bit down hard on the strong neck and at the same time squeezed tighter as he gave Ray’s rigid shaft a faster stroking.

Ray’s breathing locked in mid-breath and his body clenched tight as ecstasy flowed over his mind and out his shaft. The muscles clamping tight brought Bodie to the end, his bellow of release filled the room. They stayed locked together for several long moments, both lost in pleasure, yet both aware of the other.

Ray started to sag forward at last, taking a huge, deep breath of air as his system made their demands. Bodie pulled his partner back against his chest and they sank down to the carpet covering the floor behind the sofa. Bodie twisted Ray round enough that he could cuddle him close, the two men almost wrapped round each other in a tight ball. The only sounds to fill the room were the gradually calming breaths of two tired, contented men.

“Bodie?” queried Ray, his breath still slightly uneven.

“What?” responded an equally soft, panting voice.

“When can we do that again?” 

Bodie stuttered momentarily then leaned back against the sturdy furniture so he could see Ray’s face. 

He saw that Doyle’s eyes were closed and his mouth was partially open as he worked at getting his breath back under control. His features were flushed with life, his skin shining with health. Bodie glanced back to Ray’s eyes and watched the lids blink open, then look up to lock gazes, green to blue.

Complete and total commitment shone clearly: happiness and love offered and received.

“Whenever you want,” Bodie answered, then grinned. “But, it’s my turn next time.”

“It’s my turn, Bodie. You had your turn this time,” Ray grinned, delighted he had caught Bodie on a technicality.

“I don’t think so, Ray.” Bodie suddenly grabbed his smaller partner and began tickling and wrestling with him, until he had him flat on the carpet, Ray struggling to breath through all his yelling and squirming as Bodie lay comfortably on top, holding him securely down. 

“Bodie!” Ray’s exasperation snapped out, mercury quick.

Bodie bent to kiss his mate, drawing Ray’s involvement quickly back to pleasure. He would never let this meteoric, uneven tempered, former copper ever get away from him. They were linked, Bodie knew. Forever.


End file.
